I slid my fingertips across the railing and looked out over the Hudson River.
Every minute I spent with Matt had been amazing, but coming with him to the lighthouse only confirmed my worst thoughts: he could never really be mine.
As the tour guide walked the two of us through the venue, he acted as if he hardly knew me, as if I was just some reporter tagging along to ask him questions about the wedding.
He barely even looked at me.
“Is there anything else you need to see Miss Carter?” the tour guide looked expectantly.
“No, you’ve been great. I just need to write down a few notes while I’m out here.”
“Sounds good. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to make a few phone calls in my office,” she shook my hand and spoke with Matt for a few seconds before disappearing.
“So what do you think?” Matt leaned against the railing.
“I think you’re an ass**le. The venue however is absolutely gorgeous.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t think I stuttered.”
“Are you bipolar?”
“Are you?” I rolled my eyes. “You acted like you barely knew me during the entire tour, like I was some groupie.”
“Melody, first of all, I did not treat you like a groupie. Trust me. Second of all, what did you want me to do? Hug and kiss you in front of the tour guide? In front of the paparazzi weeks before the wedding?”
“What paparazzi?”
“Turn around in ten seconds. On your three o’ clock, up there behind that truck.”
I glared at him and slowly turned around. I looked up and saw three shadowy figures looking down at us.
That is so creepy!
“You still didn’t have to act like you didn’t know me,” I turned back around. “I honestly regret sleeping with you now. I don’t even know how I’m going to effectively write about your wedding.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I really do.”
“Which part?”
“All of it.”
Matt walked me to my apartment door and waited for me to say something.
“I’m shocked you remember where I live,” I hissed.
“Are you really that upset with me?”
“Yes.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry. I should’ve arranged for a private tour as soon as you told me you had to go there. Then we could have had sex on the deck for all I care.”
“Whatever,” I placed my key in the door. “Keep lying to yourself.”
He grabbed me by my waist and spun me around. “I said I’m sorry. Would you like to go back tomorrow?”
“That’s not the point...”
“I really had a wonderful weekend with you. I wish it didn’t have to end.”
“I wish I could believe you.”
“Melody,” he cut himself short and pushed me against the door. “Let me make it up to you.”
I was sitting in the conference room with staff members, waiting to speak to Selena Ross.
Normally, I conducted meetings like this alone, at Central Park or in the lobby of a hotel, but since she was an A-list celebrity the rules had to be changed.
The staff had been notified of her love for one hundred dollar chocolates, freshly cut sonata lilies, and the color black. In the two hours they had to put something together, they brought in a black linen table cloth for the conference table and two vases of sonata lilies. They hoped she would overlook the missing chocolates—there was only so much they could do with such short notice.
Selena entered the room an hour past our meeting time, something I would never accept from any other client. If it hadn’t been for the other staffers in the room, I would’ve said, “My time is very valuable Miss Ross, and I don’t appreciate the way you’ve made me spend it. Talk to my assistant about rescheduling and try to be on time to our next visit.”
Instead I heard myself say, “Good afternoon, Miss Ross. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Same here, Miss Carter. I’m so happy you agreed to write about our wedding,” she took a seat and plucked a lily from the vase.
The rest of the staff smiled and introduced themselves. She nodded her head at each one of them, blinking her light gray eyes, looking more stunning as the seconds ticked by.
I admired her perfect white teeth and her perfectly styled hair—she was wearing it in long black ringlets. She was pretty without even trying to be.
“How would you like me to write about your wedding, Miss Ross?” I asked.
“I want it to be romantic you know? I brought some notes,” she pulled a folder out of her bag. “These are a couple of my diary entries from when Matt and I first started dating. I want you to include some of these, you know, like a love story.”
“Okay. Is there any particular part of the wedding you want me to hone in on? Besides the vows?”
“Yes. I want you to capture me walking down the aisle, Matt’s face as I’m approaching him, and of course our first kiss as a married couple.”
My heart sank.